How Does a Moment Last Forever
by Sineluce Velius-Tristitia
Summary: Fairytale AU (Beauty and the Beast). For as long as Harry Potter could remember, he had lived under the same roof as the Dursleys in number four, Privet Drive. Then one day they decided to move. Where, you ask? To Hogsmeade, of course. Odd name for an odd village. Future SLASH (LV/HP).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So hey uh I haven't been active in a while… the explanation's in my profile if anyone wants to know.**

 **Okay so, I only have 4 chapters of this story written up. I don't know if I'd ever finish this or not but it's been lounging around my files for maybe a year so I finally decided now that I'd publish it because why not.**

 **Tags: Slash, Fairytale AU (Beauty and the Beast)**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The small town of Hogsmeade is cheerful and exuberant, its residents lively and friendly. Everyone knew each other, treated their neighbors as if part of an extended family. And although they have their own prejudices and active rumor-mill, they weren't as close-minded as small towns are wont to do.

Surrounded by vast forests and mountains, the closest city is a day's travel away. It wasn't the fault of the distance—well, not _entirely_ (on-foot travel would still take _three days_ ). Hogsmeade had an old-world, medieval theme going on. That is to say, there was also a noticeable lack of advanced technology.

Harry came to a quick conclusion that he liked that.

It means that he was left to his own devices at least five days in a week; Uncle Vernon having work in the nearest city Harry hadn't bothered remembering the name of and his cousin Dudley attending a school in the same city. Aunt Petunia didn't like the 'simple provincial life' Hogsmeade had to offer and followed her husband and son.

Sometimes he wondered why they even bought the cottage in Hogsmeade.

But Harry rejoiced in their sudden impulse of buying the cottage—in a show of wealth, Harry was sure. It was ultimately better than when they were in suburban Surrey where everything and everyone almost seemed to be cut from the same dough. Here at Hogsmeade, Harry didn't even have to follow them to the city and instead left him in the little cottage they treated as a vacation house.

"Mornin' Harry!"

Harry smiled, "Good morning Mr. Goldstein. How is Anthony?"

"Oh you know him," Mr. Goldstein laughed jovially, the contents of the small crate he was carrying jiggled as he did so. "Always wandering the woods. I swear that boy will get lost some day and my wife would go into panic."

"Anthony told me he knew the woods very well," Harry responded, ducking down as a long piece of wood swung where his head was. "Good morning to you too Mr. Entwhistle."

He was ignored by Mr. Entwhistle, as is usual.

"Well," Mr. Goldstein said, "Not that it's not great to have a chat with you, lad, but these bottles aren't gonna deliver themselves, you know?"

"Of course Mr. Goldstein."

It felt good, having built his own reputation in this little town instead of his relatives whispering things— _playing the devil's advocate_ —to their neighbors.

In Hogsmeade, he's Harry Potter, the small fifteen-year-old occupying the well-tended cottage at the outskirts of the town. No one questioned his lack of adult supervision—no one questioned his tendency of wearing large clothing that hung over his thin, scrawny frame.

Except for Hermione but she's one of the 'odd' things in town.

Not that they could talk, with a town named _Hogsmeade_ with stores named like _Dogweed and Deathcap_ as well as _The Three Broomsticks_ , odd doesn't even cover it.

But in all his fifteen years of existence, moving in to Hogsmeade was the best part of it.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

There was an abandoned railway extending from the deeper parts of the woods and to somewhere far away. No one really knew where it leads to. Despite its relatively new and noticeably _not_ rusty metal rails, no train has ever passed through it.

The villagers had their theories though. Some said it lead all the way to London, some said it would lead to the Otherworld. Harry had to blink when he heard the last one but apparently, being a little town in the Scottish highlands meant they would have a degree of belief in their folklores.

But anyway, Harry would have been glad to explore where it leads but a thick copse of large trees blocked its path on the side leading to the forest and heading the other way just had Harry exhausted with a feeling that he wasn't even half of the way there.

Still, despite his fruitless explorations, Harry liked walking along the metal rails. It was in one such walk that Harry had the pleasure of meeting Anthony Goldstein, the other boy always exploring the edges of the forests, to his parents' concern. They'd talked, shared their thoughts— _not memories, no, never that_ —lapsed into long, comfortable silences and became friends.

"Hiya Harry," Anthony greeted, his back facing the messy haired boy.

"Hey Anthony," Harry greeted back, stopping beside the taller boy. Harry wrinkled his nose. Of course majority of the people are taller than him. "Have you explored a newer part of the forest?"

"No," The blond shook his head forlornly. "I did catch glimpse of taller trees but then I remembered mum wanted me to fetch some herbs. When I went back I couldn't find it."

"Maybe you went in a different direction?" Harry suggested, following the other boy as they began walking into the thick foliage.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

The forest in the north wasn't explored frequently. In fact, one could also say it was avoided.

Because of the eerie, almost unnatural, silence that fell over the area, most of the villagers stayed away from it. Hunters didn't even bother exploring deeper, the absence of animal tracks telling them how futile it would be. And even now, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The only noises he could hear were their steady breaths and the crunches made by Anthony's boots on the forest floor. There were no crickets, no birds, not even the creaking of branches as the wind was just as absent as sound. Yes, Harry knew why the villagers would avoid these woods. However, the eerie silence isn't without its charm. Harry found himself accompanying Anthony a few times in the duration of their friendship.

"How is Hermione?"

 _This_ was also why Harry was a welcome companion to the quiet Anthony. Aside from Harry being as quiet as the other boy, Anthony also has a sort of… _interest_ in Hermione.

"Why wouldn't you just come with me to Madam Puddifoot's?" Harry shot back. "You could talk all you want with Hermione."

The look of disgust on the other boy had Harry bursting out in laughter.

Madam Puddifoot's was the only tea shop in Hogsmeade that doesn't serve as a bar and was relatively quiet compared to The Three Broomsticks. It proved to be a great base for Harry and Hermione who loved sitting and reading. However, despite its calm atmosphere and good food, the décor was rather… _not to everyone's taste_ is the kindest way to put it.

"Alright, alright, not Madam Puddifoot's," Harry stifled his giggles. "But really, she's been pestering me who I'm ' _supplying personal information to, you git_ '. Do you know how hard those tomes she's holding are? I think I still have a bruise on my arm."

"You _told_ her?" Anthony's voice was accusing.

Harry raised his hands. "I already told her I have no interest in her. It was all her genius that figured you out."

Looking at the boy beside him, Harry let a sly grin tug at his lips at the blush and stunned expression. "October 27th, dear Anthony. I'd drag you out kicking and screaming and naked if you don't come. I'm sure your mum would be more than happy to help me."

Harry almost skipped as he left his stunned friend.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

When they first arrived in Hogsmeade, the snow had just melted (to a degree) and the Holly wreaths packed away for the next Christmas season. It was then that Harry learned that the small town—or village, as some referred to it—only ever celebrated the major, commercialized holidays despite the people's Scottish origins. For all they warned of superstitions and beliefs, not many actually follow it.

He could care less about superstitions, having lived in relatively-urbanized-Surrey for a decade and a half.

Until he met Luna.

Luna was what some would call a waif. Particularly the only waif in the small town of Hogsmeade, but even that title was kind of useless. She occupied a room at Hog's Head that, although unofficial, the owner had given to her as a place to sleep in. Not entirely homeless, but it still stood that she grew up on the streets, alone, until she stumbled into Hogsmeade.

She wasn't quite an outcast, no, but her dazed and dreamy expression almost always drove people away from her. Not to mention the strange creatures she would often speak of.

Harry had been warned by well-meaning neighbors as soon as he had settled in and left behind by his relatives. He was still jumpy and scared at the changes then, unsure of where he stood when his relatives turned their nose up at the quaint little village and left for the city.

Then just as he was finishing packing away the last box of Dudley's trinkets, a knock on the door disrupted the silence.

"Your house is quite lovely. I don't think I've seen a space as clean from Wrackspurts as this one—they tend to make people's brains go fuzzy."

And that was how he was introduced to the blonde, bare-footed, odd girl with a penchant for wearing a necklace of bottle caps and Dirigible plum—though Harry thought it's really just Radish but Luna was adamant that the plums exist—shaped earrings.

Harry, with his hard-earned and beaten-into patience, had smiled and politely said thank you. Luna had taken that as a positive response and 'adopted' Harry as her friend. He was sure that wasn't how you make friends but Luna was the first ever friend he had, so it wasn't like he could tell what was proper or not. ( _And Harry revels in the utter_ warmth _that enveloped him at the thought_ )

It was odd how the 'outcast' of the little town was the one who introduced Harry to everyone.

Conversation with Luna was a different experience, kind of like deciphering Dante and Shakespeare with all the odd words and expressions. Sometimes Harry got it wrong—Luna won't ever tell him if he's wrong or not but the little twitch on her lips would always be telling—but most of the time he got it right.

And that was how Harry knew Luna wasn't quite normal.

She _knew_ things. It was what led Harry to think that all her creatures weren't quite as nonsensical as Hermione—his second friend with a nose perpetually stuck in a book—insisted it to be. Her words, preceding some sort of accident, would hold a tone of warning, hidden behind her creatures and vague allusions.

But that didn't change anything. It just served to make Harry and Luna to have a deeper connection.

After all, he's also a freak.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

In the dead of the night, in the stillness between midnight and dawn, no one should be outside their homes. It was the absolute truth and law in the quaint little town, however unwritten it may be.

Harry had heard from Hermione that it came from the more skittish of elders, saying that red and black-robed men would sweep through the streets with their cursed _taint_. They said those men were the messengers of Death, the servants of the _Morrigan_. Anyone caught would never be heard of again.

Harry had seen no harm to this tradition and so had followed it with no question. But then when curiosity ate at him—an itchy and insistent thing that it is—he peeked through the window.

And then he felt a chill run down his spine at the sight.

He hadn't seen any red or black-robed men, no, but the usually cheerful town seemed… _abandoned_.

It was disconcerting. Privet Drive, with its proudly normal residents, never looked as dark and deserted as Hogsmeade did in the dead of the night.

Not even when terrorist attacks became frequent.

So Harry shut the curtains, resolved to never break curfew because what was the point, and continued on his life.

It was probably the only tradition strictly followed by everyone. It was why Luna was given a room to sleep in every night. It was also probably why no one dares to travel in and out of town in the same day.

He was just grateful that whenever the Dursleys were in town, they would always be asleep long before midnight and stay that way until the next morning.

The dead of the night deserves what it is called in the little town of Hogsmeade.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The twenty-seventh of October dawned bright and early. Harry grinned and hurriedly made his way through his morning rituals, nearly making a mess of his small trunk of clothes in his haste. Pulling on an old sweater, he made sure that everything was covered before darting through the door.

He was glad for his foresight of finishing as much of his chores as possible the day before, leaving him with a free schedule this bright Friday. Although, there was already a roughly drawn itinerary in his mind that he had to go through—a not so free schedule then.

First, he had to stop by the Grangers to remind Hermione that she'll finally meet her 'stalker' and then go straight to the Goldsteins to make sure Anthony was ready. Because his friends were troublesome children, Harry appointed himself as the shepherd.

And so, with a noticeable skip in his step, Harry weaved through the morning crowd and headed for the one and only dentistry clinic in the town. It was probably the most modern building with its white, smooth walls and tiled floors. There was also a moment for amusement when you notice that it was sitting adjacent to Honeydukes.

He pressed the button that would alert the inhabitants of the second floor and waited.

He didn't have long to wait when the door opened with a squeal of "Harry!" and then he was eating bushy brown hair.

"'M- Mione," Harry coughed but hugged back. "We've seen each other not too long ago."

She pulled back but still clutched his hands, face flushed, "Yes, uhm, right. It's just—"

"You're kind of crushing my hands," Harry teased.

Hermione blinked, confused, before huffing, "Alright, see if I care the moment someone asks you out."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "'Mione, Anthony didn't ask you out. _You_ asked _him_ out. Through me. How creative of you."

"I didn't see you complaining."

"I'd have more than arm bruises if I complained."

"I don't even hit _that_ hard."

"Mione," Harry gasped dramatically. "Have you seen how _heavy_ those books are?! If you can lift them up, much less hold them with _one hand_ while walking, you can hit hard enough to bruise!" Harry grabbed one upper arm from the girl. "Look at these biceps!"

Hermione looked as if she was ready to kill him on the spot.

When Harry left the Grangers, he was rubbing at his shoulder. Hermione really doesn't hit that hard but for all Harry jests, his body _is_ brittle and easily bruises. It was from lack of nutrition growing up, he was sure, and there wasn't anything he could do but to live with it.

Shaking his head from his thoughts, Harry made his journey to the Goldsteins' cottage. There was no need to dwell on such things. His life changed for the better the moment his relatives left him here in Hogsmeade.

On his way, Luna sidled up to him, matching his steps with a bounce.

"They'd be great together," Luna commented in her airy voice. "I can see the _Gwynwids_ tying them together."

Harry didn't know what _Gwynwids_ were but if Luna said they'd be great together, then they would be.

The rest of their short journey was done in silence. And before Harry knocks on the wooden door, Luna gave a "see you later Harry" and promptly disappeared.

Shrugging (Luna will show herself later anyway), Harry knocked.

The door opened and he was faced with Mr. Goldstein. There was a moment where they stared at each other awkwardly before Mr. Goldstein cleared his throat.

"Well, I think I know what you're here for."

"Yes," Harry let a small grin tug at his lips. "I'm here to make sure Anthony doesn't bolt."

Mr. Goldstein raised an eyebrow, eyes shining with amusement, "Would you need our assistance?"

Harry bit his lip, deliberating, "Would Mrs. Goldstein be available for the day?"

"Why," Mr. Goldstein made a show of being surprised, "I'm sure my wife would clear her schedule for her only son."

Then the two shared a sly smirk. Mrs. Goldstein, after all, was known to be a scrupulous planner. That, in its self, would have been fine if she wasn't a romantic. Those qualities made her the unofficial match-maker of the town.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

When Harry was snickering at the meeting between an excited Hermione and bashful Anthony, Luna had mysteriously appeared beside him and had dragged Harry all the way to the Haunted Shack. Harry had never been there before, having heard the rumors but not really mustering up enough curiosity to explore it yet.

"Luna," Harry finally spoke when they stopped. "Why are we here?"

"Hush." Luna made a shushing gesture and tugged at his arm. "You'll disturb _them_."

Harry sighed, "Shouldn't you at least put on shoes? Or even slippers?" He pointedly stared at the protruding roots and sharp embedded stones on the dirty ground.

Wide blue eyes stared at him with confusion. "But they would make too much noise. That was what the Nargles told me when they stole mine from me."

"Then your feet would hurt," They've already had a variation of this conversation and Luna was either very stubborn or was always honestly confused. He doubted the latter.

"They don't," Luna answered as if offended. "The Brownies were rather nice and offered me a nice home but I don't think I should. They healed me with their nasty potions too."

 _Of course_ Luna would be offended. And yes, Harry's going to ignore that potions comment; Luna was known to collect herbs and what-not, mixing them together to make pastes that he was positive actually _worked_. Harry had a vague recollection of what Brownies were but it was escaping his grasp. Unless baked chocolate fudge could now talk and heal people. Yeah, he didn't think so.

"Alright," Harry finally conceded, defeated. "But what are we doing here?"

Luna just turned to her left and stared. Harry followed her sight with a confused frown. A minute of staring at more trees passed and Harry patiently waited. Then another minute ticked by. And the—

Wait.

Harry concentrated on hearing, even going so far as to hold his breath.

And there it was, a barking and rustling. It was growing louder and closer. Harry turned to look at Luna to ask what is it about but she wasn't beside him anymore, having walked closer to the Shack and the barking.

Harry cursed and trudged towards her, "Luna! It's dangerous to ju—"

"Shush!" Luna uncharacteristically snapped and then crouched down, looking as if she was calling something to her. "Come on Padfoot. Harry won't hurt you. You can come out from there."

Harry blinked but did shut his mouth despite the questions he had. He looked back to the direction Luna was facing and almost did a double take. A large, black dog cautiously trotted over to them, its fur shaggy and matted with grime. It was large for a normal animal but skinny too, its bones jutting out beneath its skin and visibly shifting with every move. There were traces of cuts, too. Ugly scars that looked old and young.

"That's right, come on Padfoot," Luna coaxed. "No one will hurt you here. See?"

Harry crouched down at the sharp tug Luna made on his sleeve and held out his hand to the sniffing animal.

"See, Padfoot?" Reaching out her hand, Luna rubbed at the dog's head while Harry let it sniff at his. "Harry isn't bad. We won't hurt you."

A smile bloomed on his face when the large dog whimpered and nosed at his hand, as if urging to be pet. When he continued to hold it still, a rough tongue licked at his fingers and Harry had to chuckle before obliging.

"Where did you find him?"

Luna hummed, running her fingers through matted and patched fur. "I didn't find him. He found me."

"Is that so," It was more of a statement than a question. Luna was odd like that, but he had grown used to—heaven forbid _fond of_ —it. "Well then," Harry fixed his eyes on the dog, Padfoot, "Thank you for finding Luna. She tends to become lost in her own head."

It wasn't an insult or a teasing remark. Sometimes, Harry would really get worried whenever Luna falls silent and stares at the world as if she wasn't _there_. He feared that there would come a day Luna won't suddenly snap back to reality with a story about Dragons and Kelpies and how they had to be hidden by the government in a conspiracy.

Padfoot barked in answer.

Harry grinned and continued to give the dirty dog attention. "How long have you known… him?"

"Just this summer," was the airy answer, "Padfoot told me he was looking for his pack."

 _Told her_. Harry wasn't even going to ask.

"Would you keep him?"

Harry blinks at the question and looks down at the dog, perked up as if it knew they were talking about him. He thought of the cold silence in the cottage, the utter stillness that led him to explore the bustle of the little town. Then he thought of the Dursleys, of Aunt Petunia's impossible standards, of Uncle Vernon's fondness for violence, and of Dudley's cruel nature.

Staring into grey eyes—unusual for a canine of any type but Harry had long since realized that anything related to Luna had a taste of oddness in it—Harry knew his decision.

"I don't think I can," It was worded so as to lessen the implication because Luna looked so _hopeful_ that Harry didn't think he could say a resounding _no_. He doesn't offer up an explanation.

The mere thought of subjecting a helpless creature to the scrutiny of the Dursleys, even for just a day at most, made every fiber of Harry's being to recoil. No one deserves _that_.

Luna's disappointment showed on her face, most especially her wide eyes.

"But," Harry hurried to add, feeling guilty at the face of disappointing his most precious friend. "I'm sure he can accompany us in the town without having to house him in my cottage or sneaking him in under old man Dumbledore's nose."

"He can't stay out at night."

"He's been doing fine by himself already, yeah?" Harry's tone softened. "The Haunted Shack is his best bet until we find someone interested enough to care for him."

The people of Hogsmeade may be kind in nature but not everyone would be fond of a dog as dirty and skinny—and _scarred—_ as Padfoot.

Luna's answering nod had a reluctance to it but otherwise seemed accepting of his decision. Hog's Head does not allow pets of any kind inside, well-bred or not. Even if Luna wanted to keep Padfoot, she can't and Harry wouldn't take the chance of the creature crossing paths with the Dursleys.

"Alright," Harry grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Let's stalk Hermione and Anthony!"

The giggle and bark he received told him everything.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

High Street is the main street of Hogsmeade. It has a wide, cobblestone pathway that sustains the most traffic; people carrying sacks and crates, pushing wheelbarrows and dragging wagons for deliveries. Shops are placed side by side in no particular order with some small alleyways that lead into the residential streets.

Harry always thought this kind of set up isn't ideal for an isolated town like Hogsmeade. There were too many shops, too many odd supply stores for a village of one hundred nothing residents, surrounded by mountains and forests.

And then there were the Fridays.

As their group of two humans and one canine trudged through the cobblestone streets, Harry sensed a sort of expectation in the people. It always felt like something _should_ happen during Saturdays, an expectation of… _reception_.

Really, it wasn't obvious—it wasn't even anything the people are talking about. But Harry always had to be sharp if the Dursleys are expecting guests so that he could make himself scarce. So this type of tension was something Harry was familiar with. What made him wonder was that whenever Saturday comes, there was _nothing_ —nothing out of the ordinary.

This was one such Friday.

Harry brushed the feeling off with practice and looked to Luna. "D'you know where they might be?"

Luna tilted her head to the side and stared off into nothing. Harry waited, patting Padfoot's head as the dog obediently sat beside him without bounding off.

"In front of the old Ollivander's."

Harry nodded, trusting her words. They started their journey to the old, abandoned store, keeping to the side so as not to dodge the hurrying people.

When they were near—just one more block and a turn—Harry stopped in his tracks.

"Luna?"

"Yes?"

"Are they doing something… you know…"

Luna looked at him with confused eyes. "No, I don't know…"

Harry pursed his lips, not believing what he was going to say. "You know… what people do if they are dating…"

"Oh!" Luna blinked. "You mean holding hands?"

" _No,_ " Heat crept up his neck. "You know, _that._ " He made wild gestures, hoping Luna would spare him the embarrassment.

" _That_?"

Honest confusion colored Luna's face. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how this girl can be as perceptive as she is and be utterly naïve at _other_ things. Not that he can talk.

When Harry was just about to just tell her— _dear God, this is embarrassing_ —Padfoot, having remained silent through their journey, barked, startling the two humans. And then as if a light bulb was switched on, realization dawned on Luna's face.

" _Oh!_ " Luna beamed at the dog. "Thank you Padfoot." Then she turned to Harry with a smirk, eyes glittering with _knowledge_. And _oh Gods_ _how did Harry not know Luna would exploit weaknesses_. "You'll just have to see, yeah?"

And then Luna dragged Harry— _again_ —through the last block and turn it would take to reach the old Ollivander's shop, Padfoot at their heels.

"Hello Anthony, Hermione!"

Harry twitched. "Luna!" Then he turned to hiss to her ear. "We were supposed to hide."

"It's more fun this way," Luna declared and as if in agreement, Padfoot barked and bounded over to the two— _thankfully not in a compromising position_ —people sitting on the steps, watching with bewildered eyes.

"Harry?" Anthony called in confusion, absently patting the thin and dirty dog. "Where've you been? You just disappeared earlier."

"Luna dragged me to see Padfoot," was his dry reply. "So how has your day been?"

Hermione jumped in the conversation with excitement. "Oh Anthony's been great! We went to the music shop and he played this song for me—"

Harry settled beside Luna, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the couple, and smiled as he lets Hermione's chatter and Anthony's flustered stuttering wash over him, Luna's presence an amused audience adding her opinions with Padfoot's scuffles in the background. He felt warmed, even with the permanent chill in the air. Contented and… _happy_.

 _Yes_ , Harry thought, teasing the new couple, _he would gladly fight for what he has now_.

And if that meant hiding parts of him—the deeply cherished part he nurtured—to keep this amazing, _warming_ little thing… it was a small price to pay. It would sit there, festering _deeper_ , until the time he would need it to protect _this_.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

With the coming Halloween, Harry thought the little village would be bustling with activity to put up the necessary decorations. In Surrey, although Harry had never had personal experience, Halloween was probably one of the most prepared for occasion outside of Christmas— _oh, it wouldn't do for number 6 to best us in the décor_.

Apparently, in the little town of Hogsmeade, Halloween wasn't celebrated. At least, not quite the same way as Harry knew.

Halloween— _Samhuinn_ —night was the sole exception to the unwritten rule. In the stead of midnight, residents are to be in their houses at twilight and only emerge at the dawn of the Samhuinn day. There should be no light or any sign of the living to avert the evil that crosses from the Otherworld. Samhuinn is, after all, a liminal time where it is easier to cross between this world and the Otherworld. It was optimal time for the creeps to come out.

It was odd for someone new in the town like Harry and while he isn't pagan—the tradition clearly being of pagan origins—his friends urged him to follow it.

Then, as all his other decisions in the oddities of Hogsmeade, he agreed to follow.

It was when he and his friends were parting ways for the twilight which screwed with that decision.

The only ones left outside were a few stragglers, children whom their parents are already dragging inside their painted doors. Anthony was the first one to notice this.

"The sun is setting, we should go."

They all quickly agreed but as the last door shut, Padfoot let out a sharp whine.

Luna stood stock still— _still as if frozen in place and Harry felt anxiety curl at his gut—_ as they all paused.

Then with a deep growl, the large but skinny dog lunged and ran to the direction of the forest in the north.

"Padfoot!" Harry shouted in an aborted motion of chasing after the dog.

"We should go after him," Luna spoke, her voice sounding almost dazed. "The Centaurs won't take the intrusion kindly."

Hermione sighed in exasperation, "Centaurs don't exist, Luna."

"Centaurs or not," Anthony cut in, lips pursed as he watched the sun set lower. "We have to get him back. The forest in the north is easy to get lost in."

Harry shared a look with the other boy before nodding. "I'll go."

Then he was off.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…::: 

**Reviews give me life.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, haha, I kinda fucked up somewhere. This was supposed to be published as drabbles but I forgot? Lol. And I checked the documents again. Turns out I only have 3 parts. So uh, hang in there guys?**

 **Anyway, here's the second part! (That I published because I'm legal now!)**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The forest of the north was large—large enough to get lost in and confusing enough to deter would-be explorers. It was silent and still, unnatural and avoided. In exchange for this, there were no animals, neither wild nor domestic, to be worried of. There was nothing to sneak away from even if you trudged noisily.

At least, it should have been.

As Harry easily ran through uneven ground—he'd had _much_ practice—the forest seemed _alive_. Sure, it was still quiet, still as dark and unoccupied, but there was something there that was missing before. _Something_ that made the air thicker, that made goosebumps erupt on his arms—that made him shiver almost unconsciously.

"Padfoot!" Harry called out in agitation as the dog continued to run a few feet away from him.

The forest seemed alive and that didn't look good for Harry. Alive means movement, and in this particular forest, alive means change. That _something_ has shifted and as used to the odd as Harry is, this moment raised alarms in his head, waving warning flags and flashing red lights.

"Padfoot!" Harry tried again even as the dog continued to run, dodging trees and roots impressively for such a mangy and underfed creature. "Where are you even going?"

Blowing out a breath and quickly inhaling, Harry resolved to stop calling after the dog to reserve his breath. He could run a straight mile and be able to breathe normally, but the forest floor was considerably harder to stumble through and took more effort. The thickness of the air didn't help either.

The grimy dog continued to run even as it broke through the forest line and into a clearing of sorts. Harry continued to dodge trees and roots.

When he finally reached the edge of the forest, Harry stopped, caught his breath, and wondered where he is. He'd run after Padfoot again but it would be no good if he didn't know the way _back._

The messy haired teen was able to look up just in time to see Padfoot slip through the grills of a large gate.

 _That wasn't there before_ , Harry thought, apprehension creeping up. He was positive that Anthony would have told him if there was something like _this_ in the forest. Certainly, it would be interesting enough to the other boy to explore. Even his own excursions didn't end up here.

The gate had a large 'H' in the middle, stylized as a crest or like a coat-of-arms Harry had once seen in the telly. From his distance to the gate, Harry cannot clearly see any inscriptions but suspected that it _should_ give him a guess of where he is.

Completely dismissing looking back from where he came from—he'd have the opportunity to do it later anyway—Harry jogged up a path to the iron gates with the intention of sating his curiosity, his focus remaining on the crest-slash-coat-of-arms;

 _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The castle— _an honest to God stone castle—_ behind the iron gates made Harry gape in both awe and shock. The structure of the castle— _Hogwarts School, if the crest was to be believed_ —was big; encompassing a large span of however big the land was beyond the gate. Added to that, what he could see of the towers were _tall_ , easily going beyond six floors in height (the only comparison he could have was Number 4, which was a sizeable two-story house).

It was _beautiful_.

It made shivers run down Harry's spine for no inexplicable reason.

And it should also be seen in Hogsmeade quite clearly with how big it is.

All these thoughts swirled around Harry's head as he tried to find a way in. After all, he still had to get Padfoot back before the night became deeper and the forest a lot more dangerous (the mere thought of passing through it caused his metaphorical fur to stand on end).

But as soon as his hand touched the gate, he stiffened as a cold and warm _and hot and burning_ wave of _something_ wrapped around his body in a tight embrace, reminding him of the harsh inspections Aunt Petunia made before he was dismissed to his cupboard. It writhed and crawled and burrowed, seeping into every crevice of his being before pulling back with slowness and intensity.

It left Harry feeling drained, _exhausted_ and prickling with energy. It was still there, still curling and twisting, but it wasn't as hot and burning.

The gates opened with a creak of rusted metal and Harry found his limbs sluggishly moving into the land. He shuddered, feeling as if he had just walked through a curtain even if he had seen nothing but air.

Then he was assaulted by the feeling of almost being snatched, cradled in a too tight embrace, as the winds promised of safety and protection. Disjointed, deranged and utterly _lonely and broken and beaten down_.

Harry must have lost his mind because things like _these_ shouldn't be happening.

The pressure tightened, wrapping him up in a scalding heat of loneliness and _plea_. He fell to his knees as it continued to swirl around excitedly, charging the air and making it harder and harder to breathe. The wind continued to whisper of promises, tinged heavily by a _need_.

It was almost easy to surrender, almost easy to succumb to the clamor of _Hogwarts_ , to respond to the plea. And Harry did just that because his body and mind—of which _Hogwarts_ had assaulted and run ragged—allowed nothing else.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

When Harry came to, he found himself in a room bare of anything but the stone walls and floors, a dim light from the ceiling bathing the room with light that didn't sting his eyes as he blearily blinked them open. He didn't say anything, didn't move from his prone position on the cold floor. But he did wonder, briefly, how he came to the room when his last memory was of—

 _Burningburninghelpmeburningpleasepleaseplea—_

Immediately, a cold blanket of air draped around him, soothing the sudden _burn_ as his mind continued to work through the grogginess. He could still feel it under and on his skin; the crackling, zapping energy that he suspected came from the castle.

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

There was only one logical answer to the unspoken— _unthought_ —question.

 _Magic_.

Scars twinged at the reminder of buried memories but he paid it no heed. Even if he tried to scrabble up any other explanation to what is happening, to what happened, to what he is _feeling_ …there was just nothing. So, really, he would spare himself a headache by accepting it. Magic exists, apparently, and that was that. He didn't need to question it.

Except a voice that sounded so _familiar_ screamed at him.

 _There's no such thing as magic, boy!_

There's no such thing as another explanation for this either.

There was a muted flare of amusement and Harry's lips twitched up. Then he frowned because there was absolutely _nothing_ amusing in what's happening.

 _Magic exists and he's in a bloody castle in a hidden part of the northern woods. And the bloody castle is hidden from view even with its obnoxiously old stones and towers._

The pressure— _magic?_ —lightened but didn't leave. Instead, it floated around him, languidly brushing and constantly reminding him of its presence. What was this? No, he wouldn't get answers anyway. As long as it remained harmless, he would try not to think about it—

 _Padfoot!_

Harry bolted upright, regretting it as the world spun around him, feeling his stomach roll and everything from neck-up to feel like it was abruptly pulled. He lay back down, curling up on his side and clenching his eyes shut as the world continued to spin. It was a good thing he hadn't eaten anything since that morning… uh, the morning of the 31st. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious.

Moments passed and the world continued to spin. It ranged from a second to a day when it finally stopped.

The feeling of being spun as if in a concrete mixer tapered off into a dull sense of vertigo but Harry didn't dare move. He feared that a shift would cause what little was in his stomach to bubble up his throat. Even when it disappeared, Harry remained curled up.

On one hand, he wanted to find Padfoot, the dog being his main objective for now; on the other, he didn't know what he would encounter outside the dimly lit walls. He couldn't even recall if there _was_ a door to go through.

 _Go. Gogogogo—_

The pressure around him increased again, the air— _magic—_ around him insistent and excited.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, rubbing at his face and knocking his glasses away. He rolled over on his back, glaring at the blurred ceiling. "Why are you like _this?_ "

At the back of his mind, a small part of him laughed at talking to a _bloody castle_ of all things. But his good sense—the one that made him survive for _this_ long—hushed it. The damn stone building was clearly alive.

Apparently, as he was having an—important and world-altering—internal debate, _Hogwarts_ got impatient.

Nothing could have prepared Harry for the gut-wrenching feeling of being _magically_ transported.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

From this point on, Harry vowed to himself that he would respect juice drinks and sodas. Well, no, that was going a bit too far even in this madness, but the feeling of being compressed and hurled through a thin tube was very, _very_ uncomfortable.

His abrupt transportation, happily given to him by _Hogwarts_ , left him heaving and choking as the acrid taste of stomach acids stung his throat and tongue. He coughed and spitted, sitting on his hands and knees, and wiping his mouth with the hem of his too large shirt.

Finally getting a hold of himself, Harry looked around, snorting at the blurred images he was greeted by. Of course _Hogwarts_ hadn't even had the consideration of sending his glasses with him.

Sighing, Harry stood up on slightly shaking legs. "Nothing for it," He muttered sullenly.

Right, first thing on the list is finding Padfoot. How exactly he was going to find anything with his blurred eye sight, Harry was a bit iffy about, but he'll just have to endure it. Hermione and the others are bound to be worried if he would be gone for too long.

If he was right about being inside _Hogwarts School_ , then he'll have quite a journey ahead. He just hoped Padfoot would be easy to find. Clearly, the dog was too undernourished to be running around the castle for a long time; he must have stopped for a rest by now. His luck, known for being bipolar, would probably have Padfoot running around and not _in_ the castle.

A pop that was deafening in the silence startled him away from his musings.

"Hellos."

Harry swallowed a yell and instead blinked down at the… creature. It—it felt rude to refer to the creature like that but decided to use it anyway until he knew what he/she/it is—had big, floppy ears and tennis ball eyes, standing remarkably short in height. Everything else was too blurred to distinguish no matter how much he squints but he knows this can't be a human.

"I'd hate to be rude but…" Harry scratched at his arm in discomfort feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you?"

"I's be a House Elf sir," The… House Elf spoke in broken English, kind of like a child. "The _Lady_ asked of the elfs to send ins someone to helps you."

"Okay," Harry dragged the vowels longer than it should. "What, uhm, what's your name? I can't always call you House Elf when it sounds like there are a bunch of you guys."

The Elf nodded eagerly, ears flopping enthusiastically. "I's be calls Tiffy, sir. Other elfs be busies to take care of the _Lady_."

"The _Lady?_ " Harry muttered. " _Hogwarts?_ "

Again the Elf, Tiffy, nodded eagerly. "The _Lady_ be _Hogwarts_ , yes."

Humming, Harry considered Tiffy. The Elf clearly knew the castle well if what she (Tiffy's voice was too high to be a male) was telling is true.

"Can you help me find someone?"

He couldn't quite read the Elf's face but Harry thought she was smiling. "Tiffy's will do her best!"

That was a hopeful answer and a better solution than walking around blind as a bat.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The castle— _yes, he really is inside Hogwarts_ —halls were wide, spacious, and confusing, with the walls filled by _moving paintings_. Bloody buggering paintings that should _not_ be able to crossover other frames, mockingly waving at his bewildered, blurry gaze.

Harry would have been in a lot more panic if they talked. Thank God they didn't and he wasn't about to ask Tiffy if they _could_. Even he has his limits.

Unfortunately, Tiffy was unable to help him any more than being a guide because apparently she didn't know of anything or anyone named Padfoot nor was she able to locate anyone or anything without seeing them for herself. Something about House Elf magic having rules like that to prevent abuse.

Harry guessed it was still better to have Tiffy guide him through the confusing and vast halls of Hogwarts School. His poor eye sight was certainly no help for keeping track of his surroundings.

At some point in their journey, Harry felt the need to finally ask, "What do you know about magic?"

The little Elf stopped in her tracks and turned to Harry. "Magic bes everything sir Harry. It be what makes thingies possible."

"Oh," Harry scratched his head. That was not a clear description but he'd accept what he could get. He knew better than to be narrow-minded. "Like the one making those paintings move? Are there any… rules? Limitations?"

"Just be the strength and will of the wizards," was Tiffy's response.

"Wizards?" Harry asked in surprise. Logically, yes, there would be people or whatevers who are able to harness magic; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry indeed. "Are there any more left?"

"There bes many witches and wizards," Tiffy explained just as enthusiastic as she was before. Harry wanted to know how many, exactly, but Tiffy continued before he could ask. "You be ones too, sir Harry."

Harry stiffened as soon as what Tiffy said had registered. "Me?"

Tiffy's ears flopped around as she nearly vibrated. "Yes, yes, sir. Powerful too. The _Lady_ says so."

"No, no," Harry shook his head, hunching in on himself. "You must be wrong. I'm not a wizard. I can't do _magic_."

He can't be a wizard. If he was, he wouldn't be with his relatives in the first place. He wouldn't have had to go through what he did. Because if he really had magic, he would have left long ago and never came back.

"Magic do what magic needs," Tiffy answered, downhearted and nervous but determined. "Hogwarts bes a place for wizards and witches and magics. The _Lady_ lets you be here, sir Harry. Sir Harry is a wizard."

Harry didn't answer. A part of him wanted to deny and deny the House Elf. Magic seemed wonderful to have. He didn't deserve it. But then a bigger, larger part of him longed to believe it. He wanted to have something wonderful that was entirely _his_. And more importantly, something obviously _powerful_ that could protect what he cherishes.

In his silence, Tiffy started panicking, squeaking out apologies and punishments for herself in the same sentence. Harry panicked too, unused to the Elf's sudden outburst and having to plead with her to _not_ bash her head on the wall when she started doing so.

"Please, Tiffy, please stop," Harry tried to gently pull Tiffy away from the wall but proved useless to the determined Elf. "Tiffy, stop, you did nothing wrong. You were just telling me the truth. You did not speak out of line."

Harry continued to coax the Elf to stop hurting herself, feeling his heart clench at every thud her head made when she bashed it to the wall. Empathy hadn't been Harry's strongest suit but in this case, it didn't take much effort to see things in the way Tiffy does. And right now, he'd do about everything to stop Tiffy from hurting herself.

If that meant he had to claim belief of him being a wizard, then Harry was willing to lie.

 _Was it even a lie if he desperately wished for it to be true?_

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

On hindsight, Harry should have considered the possibility of _someone_ living inside the enormous stone castle. Then again, a part of him was still struggling with believing in the existence of _magic_. Still, it _was_ a large castle. A large castle with many rooms and floors and towers and— well, there's _a lot_ of space and apparently a lot of House Elves too.

There was no point in lamenting about it. As he and Tiffy trudged through the halls, a voice echoed through the walls, startling Harry into action.

Harry abruptly grabbed Tiffy, pulling her behind an alcove and covering her mouth when she let out a startled squeak.

"C'mon dear," A high-pitched voice whined, Harry guessed it was a woman. "We'll have to get back soon."

The response was inaudible but Harry could guess it might have been an affirmative if the woman's cheerful humming was to go by. It seemed she was… excitable and her companion was just quiet in nature. Only the woman's voice could be clearly heard even with the eerily silent halls.

"You know they got that _mutt_ back in place," This immediately caught Harry's attention. "He'd managed to return and Our Lord wanted his answers."

Filing away the information he stumbled over, Harry remained concentrated on hearing the almost one-sided conversation and didn't notice that the people he was eavesdropping on were getting closer and closer to his hiding place. Tiffy remained stiff in his hold but managed to keep quiet.

"The Old Coot deserves more than what he suffered," Now Harry could hear the woman's companion, this one clearly male. "Our Lord would have let us have a turn."

Going by their conversation, Harry could only think of servants. It was confusing. Sure, he was in a castle—a living, _sentient_ castle—but having a _Lord_? Tiffy already called _Hogwarts_ the Lady. Was it possible to have a castle as a Lady and a maybe-human-maybe-not Lord and have different sets of servants?

House Elves, as Tiffy said, served the _Lady_. She said nothing of a _Lord_.

And what is it about mutts and old coots? Those, Harry was pretty sure, were insults. There was a _lot_ going on, Harry only wanted to find Padfoot and leave, to cheerfully delude himself that this was nothing but a dream. A treacherous part of him was pleased with the excitement but he willfully ignored it. Excitement caused trouble and Harry would rather go back to his—not really new but still _his_ —peaceful life in Hogsmeade.

"And what do we have here?"

Harry startled, failing to swallow a yelp. Tiffy twitched violently in his hold.

These were the people he was eavesdropping on; standing with a gait that intimidated even the battered soul in Harry.

The woman had a smirk on her drawn – _exhausted?_ —face, lips dark and stretched, her hair a disarray of messy curls. She reminded Harry of those Goths that prowl the street when the night life of the city is in full swing. And, staring into her dark eyes, Harry knew, even with his blurred gaze, this was not a woman to be trifled with.

Her companion, a tall man that made Harry feel like an insignificant little being, had an unpleasant twist on his face, clearly displeased. Harry could practically feel the glare the man was sending him.

"I don't know you," The woman practically purred with a sharp smile, crouching down in front of him. "How are you here?"

Harry instinctively tightened his hold on Tiffy, nerves alight and heart pounding a mile a minute. This woman is _dangerous_ ; Harry could practically taste it in the air. There was a faint smell of copper that Harry was hoping he imagined.

"I—" Harry swallowed heavily. "I was looking for my dog…"

"Dog?" Suddenly, the woman leaned close to his face, close enough to see her aristocratic features. "A dog!" Then she whipped around to look at her companion. "Roddy, he's looking for his dog!"

"Don't call me Roddy," The man—Roddy, or a name it was derived from—turned to the woman. "And I don't see why it should matter."

"Hush!" The woman turned back to Harry with a smile, this time different, softer almost. "Now, don't listen to Rodolphus, it has been a while since he talked to anyone else besides me or his brother. I'll help you find your dog," At this, she glanced down at Tiffy with barely hidden disdain. "Better than this elf has done."

Tiffy didn't react, but Harry thought it was because of the tight grip he had on her. Realizing this, he loosened his hold, wanting to apologize to the Elf but the woman before him demanded his attention with her air of danger. He hoped the little Elf would know he didn't mean to hurt her.

He was set on refusing her help—Tiffy had been an amazing guide and he didn't really want to be in these people's presence for much longer—but he had a feeling that refusing _wasn't_ what he should do.

A curious, sharp prod at his mind had Harry twitch. It was an odd sensation but he knew what it meant this time. _Hogwarts_ was meddling again. And he knew, for now, he would take it into consideration.

Tiffy is great and all but _Hogwarts_ has some form of control over her. Harry didn't like _Hogwarts_ all that much and he'd find a way out of the castle (Hermione and the others must be worried by now), but Tiffy's knowledge is limited to what _Hogwarts_ wanted him to know. That much was obvious.

However, this woman and Rodolphus don't seem to have such limits. But again, they were _dangerous_.

"Okay," Harry nearly startled himself with his response.

The woman grinned in victory and jumped up in a fluid motion. "Well then, let's go! Our Lord would have to see you first before I can really help you."

A sinking feeling of dread washed over him.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

In his youth, Harry was rash in his decisions. Thinking on his feet can only do so much in organizing plans that has a higher chance of working flawlessly. He was never one for sitting and thinking of cause and effect. Hardly had he ever applied actually stopping to plan on anything that didn't have to do with his relatives.

It often led to trouble, but nothing that he couldn't handle. He was resourceful, after all.

But here, walking down the halls of Hogwarts with Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, he felt as if he had bitten more than he could chew. Tiffy had 'popped' away with a squeak when Bellatrix told— _threatened_ —her to, leaving Harry at the mercy of the two magic users.

Bellatrix happily twirled a thin length of bent wood—her _magic wand_?—between her fingers as they walked to the Great Hall, where they could ask for the audience of their Lord. Rodolphus remained stoic the entire journey, unlike his wife who chattered at Harry.

It was too awkward for Harry to remain silent so he made the occasional questions and answers to show that he was listening.

Unfortunately, all she said were mundane things that he couldn't make heads or tails of. What he did manage to gather was that the castle wasn't as abandoned as Harry initially thought it was. There was their Lord, of course, and a couple other of his servants. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were in what was called the 'Inner Circle', which apparently meant they were closer to their Lord. Requesting an audience was not as hard as it would have been for the lower ranking 'servants'.

The journey took longer than it probably should. After climbing up another set of stairs and then going back _down_ somewhere, they finally managed to arrive in their destination. The doors were _large_ , speaking volumes of the sheer size of the room beyond it. However, before they entered, Bellatrix had some things to say to him.

"Harry," She pulled him close and murmured to his ear, not showing any reaction to his flinch and stiffness at the contact. "Our Lord isn't someone you would want to mess with. Be a good boy and don't speak out of turn." Then she pulled away, running a hand through his messy hair. "I would hate to see your pretty face crying."

Harry shuddered. For this moment, he was glad to have lost his glasses. Even the building headache from constantly squinting to see was worth the inability to see her expression.

Bellatrix stepped back and tapped her wand against the stone doors, muttering something under her breath that Harry couldn't understand.

Then the doors were opening and Harry just realized he had never heard what their Lord was called.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Hermione Granger was hardly a stupid girl.

She proudly abides by the law, no matter how unofficial; she obeys her parents without question; she was half-way through reading the books in _Tomes and Scrolls_ even though she wrinkles her nose at how _fantastical_ a good portion of them are.

Hermione could list off many more reasons but the most important thing was that she _obeys her parents_.

Learning had always been her one and true love (and maybe someday Anthony would be the one to make it two, she'd give it time). So her devastation at finding out that their new home in _Hogsmeade_ was nowhere near a school almost bordered on a child's tantrum.

It was unfair. They had been fine in the city, where she could finish her high school and go to college and graduate with the highest grade she could manage. But it wasn't to be.

Her parents wanted to have their own practice and live a quiet life in the countryside. A few inquiries led them to the quaint little village of Hogsmeade. Then a protesting twelve-year-old Hermione Granger found their old house sold, their things packed, and on their way to the Scottish highland.

She expected to hate the town. She didn't expect the charm the little village had.

It had taken a few months to settle down, but she found herself enchanted. By no means was it the best place Hermione had ever gone to yet she still enjoyed the quiet life brought by the cobblestone roads and outdated technology. It helped that she could home study and only venture out to take her GCSEs. She didn't need to deal with popular girls and bullies.

And so the years passed with her still alone but happy.

Then she met Luna, then Harry. Her life became a lot more colorful, and if she still ever begrudged her parents from uprooting her from their previous home, then Hermione would have forgiven them for leading her to Harry and Luna, and then Anthony. Luna may be odd and sometimes grated on Hermione's nerves, but the blonde girl was a great person, capable and incapable of many things but Hermione saw the beauty in the strange girl.

But, well, following after Harry and Padfoot in the northern forest?

Hermione is sure she has gone mad when she dragged Anthony and trudged through the forest, following after the blonde girl who suddenly decided it was better to be with Harry to find Padfoot.

"We should get back," Anthony told her but not really meaning it.

Hermione huffed and eyed her current courtship partner. "Somehow I think it's best to retrieve Luna, too."

"You make it sound like she's a dog," Anthony let out a huffing laugh but then sent her a raised eyebrow. "In all honesty, I think Luna is able to handle herself quite fine."

"I know that," Hermione admitted as they continued to walk through the forest in the dark, feeling nervous and apprehensive. "It's getting darker, Anthony, and I'd rather tell myself I did something and not just let them get lost in the forest. It's big." _It's scary. Terrifying._

The grin on Anthony's lips was hesitant and nervous, showing his apprehension as well. "Good thing I know the way around here, yeah?"

A chill suddenly run up her spine as a gust of wind rustled through the leaves. Hermione clenched harder on Anthony's hand. "Yeah."

The sky was darkening, intensifying the eerie air of the forest. Faded words from a worn and almost empty journal came to mind like an ominous warning as the sun continued set;

 _In the time of twilight in Samhuinn,  
no villager shall wander into the streets  
For the time has come for the Others to cheer  
And their memories will all be revealed_

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

 **Reviews (because I am stupid and turned off PMs but still won't turn it on):**

 **Gurgaraneth** **:** Hmm… I had an explanation for that one but I can't remember it right now. It's in my notes somewhere—that, I am sure of. It's between the lines though, if you're determined enough to find the clues. And _oh_ , let me tell you; their meeting is _something_. Thank you for dropping by and reviewing!

 **SimpleLilacDun** : I'm glad that I still have my touch. Lol. Hope this satisfies your intrigue and eagerness.

 **Wolf of Lilacs** : Hogsmeade does have _a lot_ of potential for fairytales. And I honestly love reading those types of fanfiction. Well, _loved_. Because I'm preoccupied by something else as of the moment. Even I am excited to see where this goes because I have kinda forgotten where it _will_ go. I do have my notes for this fanfic so there's no worry in me losing the plot. Thank you so much for leaving a review!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, so, I don't reply to reviews cuz I kinda turned off my Private Messaging and I don't think it's time to turn it on again. But know that**

 **I really do appreciate everyone who is supporting this fic (cuz lmao God knows it does since I haven't even started the next parts for this yet).**

 **Anyways, on with the story!**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

The Throne Room is unnervingly barren. It was large; perhaps the largest room in the castle. Fireplaces lined the walls in even intervals though none of them were lit. It called to attention the eerie lack of temperature; it wasn't warm, but it certainly wasn't as cold as it should be. There was an ornate throne on an elevated dais but Harry could hardly make out other details because of the rather dim lighting.

He looked up, wondering if the ceiling would be just as bare and was greeted by its stone foundations. It was depressing to look at and a pang of deep sadness and remorse twisted in his gut.

 _The stars and constellations should be reflected. A beautiful day to be seen not from the windows. Storms and thunders to be watched with awe and without fear of getting hurt. Gentle fall of snowflakes to be enjoyed when it's too cold to go outside._

 _The new, innocent children to impress with the magic's splendor; to feel their shock and admiration._

 _To house them, to protect them, to provide adventure in their hearts and see them grow into their own—_

He was jerked out of his daze as a hand roughly tugged him forward. Sharp, jagged nails dug on flesh, movement snappy and pace fast. Bellatrix strode purposefully closer to the dais and genuflected at the foot of the empty throne, Rodolphus falling into the same position beside her. A harsh tug at his arm had Harry following suit, more than a little bit confused at their actions.

And for the first time, Rodolphus suddenly met his gaze. "Keep your head down, boy."

Harry obeyed, the moniker tugging at his instincts.

Minutes later, just as Harry was about to shift because his knee started to ache, something in the air changed.

 _Magic_ , Harry had to remind himself.

And what magic it is. _Dark_ and oppressing, it rolled in invisible waves and engulfed the room with its cruelty and apathy. Harry felt like he was drowning in oil, feeling its slick intensity wash over him. It was vastly different from _Hogwarts'_ ; it wasn't rough nor was it excitable. Not old and _ancient_ , but _consuming._

Harry had to suppress a shiver.

" _My Lord…_ " Harry vaguely heard Bellatrix and Rodolphus say the words in reverence and fear. He would have imitated them but the sheer amount of _Dark_ magic that swam almost lazily in the room prevented him from doing so. He clenched his hand at the hem of his shirt and tightly shut his eyes.

" _Rise…_ "

He found himself tugged up from his position, barely registering the hissed command. Rodolphus might have said something but Harry could hardly _think_ beyond the overwhelming magic. It was _stronger_ than _Hogwarts_ and Harry found it hard to focus on the ongoing conversation.

Then he was staring into crimson orbs alight with interest and pleasure. Pleasure for what, Harry didn't know, but their _Lord_ soon had Harry in his intense and calculating focus.

"I see your fear," The _Lord_ whispered, stepping- _gliding_ closer to him, dark robes effortlessly flowing in the current his magic made. "I sense your apprehension. And yet you stand here in front of Lord Voldemort. Who are you?"

 _Voldemort_. Where had he heard that? Harry licked his lips, finding them dry and cold sweat wracking his body. "Harry… sir."

A thin smile tugged at Voldemort's mouth and Harry didn't know if it was good for him or not. " _Harry_ …"

"If I may, my Lord?" Bellatrix cut in, voice a simper that somehow came out respectful. Lord Voldemort inclined his head in silent permission but never pulled his attention away from Harry. "The boy is looking for his _dog_. I gave him my word that I will help him in his endeavor."

Voldemort _finally_ turned his focus away from Harry and unto Bellatrix. Harry had a feeling that there was _something_ that went over his head at some point. "I see… I am not an unreasonable Lord. I do not see why I should prevent your… endeavor to happen."

Suddenly, Bellatrix _squealed_ in excitement but didn't allow herself to react any more than that. Harry didn't feel at all relieved.

"However," Voldemort glided over to the throne and gracefully took his seat, the darkness swallowing his form. "Unless your _pet_ has been found, you cannot leave the premises."

This was addressed to him and Harry bowed his head out of habit. "Of course, Lord."

Harry caught sight of the pitying glance Rodolphus sent his way. Harry didn't even feel indignation at being _pitied_ , never mind that he didn't know what he was being pitied for.

But _Hogwarts'_ feeling of smug triumph left a foreboding chill deep inside his bones.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Leaving the throne room was like a breath of fresh air, though it did not take with it the horrible aftertaste of Voldemort's magic. It didn't taste like anything, per se, but rather like a persistent stain. As if he would never _unfeel_ it again.

Rodolphus chose to accompany them for reasons Harry didn't dare ask. The man has proven his distaste over Harry so why _help_ in searching for Padfoot? Harry has survived the Dursleys long enough to be intimately aware of the golden rule. _Don't ask_. And so he didn't.

Bellatrix has, disconcertingly, acted as though she was Aunt Petunia with Dudley. She fussed and _babied_ him, her tone of voice _childish_ as if talking to a mere babe. Frankly, it irked Harry but Bellatrix certainly didn't seem to be mocking him. Judging by Rodolphus' put upon sighs, it was simply the way Bellatrix is.

"Love," Rodolphus broke in, annoyed, before Bellatrix could start another charade that didn't make sense to Harry. "Why don't we head down to the kitchens? I am sure… _Harry_ …would like to eat something."

Eager for a change of route—Harry didn't even know where they were heading to nor was he sure Bellatrix' intention was to find Padfoot in the first place—the teenager nodded in agreement, plastering a placid smile at the almost pout on the woman's face. The shriveled pit that was his stomach hadn't really bothered him, he was used to it, but perhaps the way to the kitchens would make a lot more sense than the confusing hallways (and confusing events).

"I haven't eaten anything since this morning," Harry intentionally failed to mention just _when_ 'this morning' was, or the fact that he did not know how long ago it was. "I am a bit famished."

" _Oh_ my poor boy," Bellatrix nearly wailed, roughly grabbing his hand and eying his wrists critically. "You're much too thin!" Then she tugged at him until he was forced to follow her, going to the opposite direction of where they were heading to. "Come! I know just the thing!"

Harry and Rodolphus shared a look, the man's eyes betraying the scowl on his face. Amusement, fondness and exasperation glinted in dark brown eyes. Harry looked away and focused on keeping up with Bellatrix.

Perhaps he may have misjudged the man.

:::…~~~~-0-~~~…:::

Harry became resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to memorize his way around the castle. Not with Bellatrix leading the way, at least. It seems as if the woman was purposefully taking unnecessary turns, passing through hallways that Harry could have sworn they passed by dozens of times already.

He doubted the woman didn't know her way around the castle. No, Bellatrix knew it like the back of her hand. In fact, she had mentioned that _Hogwarts_ is, essentially, where she— _they_ , because Rodolphus and their Lord were there, too—lived in for more than a decade.

Bellatrix was very forthcoming with information on magic, explaining the basics (that Harry might be, at the very least, a _halfblood_ because he seemed a tiny bit familiar; that wizards and witches usually used _wands_ to do magic; that potions is a thing; that creatures like _dragons_ and _unicorns_ are real; and that magic is basically _everything_ ) without prompting. Harry remained unperturbed at the reality-altering words coming from her mouth, just nodding in acceptance and half meaning it. The other half remained convinced that he had finally gone mad. The former was winning, though, because he remembered Luna.

 _What's real is real. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean they don't exist_.

Maybe Luna was not as odd as people thought.

 _Or she knows of magic_.

How? Bellatrix had briefly mentioned the Statute of Secrecy, the governing bodies of the _Wizarding World_ , and the organization dedicated to keeping the existence of magic solely known by those _of_ magic (and wasn't it a shock to find out that they have their own _government_ ).

Luna knew a lot about magic, now that Harry thought about it—a lot more than she should if she wasn't a witch. But Harry could attest to the fact that Luna _didn't_ use magic. She didn't have a wand anyway, despite her creatures and oddity. Was it possible? Knowing of magic and yet not being able to use it? Harry didn't know of magic and yet here he was, being told that he had it.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

"Ah, we're here!" Bellatrix notified, stopping in front of a portrait of a bowl of fruit. Harry looked around, wondering where it is, when the witch reached out and tickled the pear in the painting. Curious despite himself, Harry watched as the pear squirmed and turned into a green door-knob. The witch was about to grab it when Rodolphus beat her to it. The two held a silent conversation and Bellatrix took a step back.

Inwardly surprised by the byplay, Harry turned to look at Bellatrix to see her face disconcertingly _blank_.

"Well?" Rodolphus called attention to himself, eyebrow raised expectantly. Reluctant but unwilling to dither, Harry followed after the man into where Harry assumed the kitchen is.

The kitchens weren't any warmer to look at than the deserted corridors were. In fact, it managed to look more _desolate_ than the throne room. It wasn't as empty, no, there were long tables filling up the space in the middle with shelves lining the walls, a large fire-place, perhaps where food was cooked, stood in an alcove. The air, though, was musty. There were no dust particles to sneeze on but the vibe of the place had a chill run down Harry's spine.

There was so much _loneliness_ here.

"What can Tiffy be doings sir Harry?"

Blinking in surprise, Harry turned to see the little elf.

"Hello Tiffy." Harry grinned but it fell when he saw her wringing her hands, looking slightly nervous. Immediately, Harry knelt down close to her, slightly concerned for the little elf. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothings, sir." It wasn't convincing but Harry let it slide, knowing how hard it would be to pry.

"Elf," Rodolphus' voice cut in. "Why don't you make yourself useful and serve our…guest some food?"

Harry chanced a glance at Rodolphus but turned back to Tiffy as the elf vigorously nodded and disappeared with a pop.

Bellatrix hurried beside Harry and manhandled him to sit at one of the tables. "Don't kneel on the floor like that. It's very unbecoming."

Seconds later, plates of food appeared before him.

 _How terribly convenient magic is._ Bellatrix piled food on his plate. _How terribly crippling could it be?_

Because for all it seems to be _everything_ …

Then doesn't that mean it encompasses the darker aspects as well? If he already had magic in the beginning, how come it didn't help him escape the Dursleys? _It depends on the will_ …Harry certainly had it.

 _(…do you?)_

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

"Anthony," Hermione unnecessarily tugged at the hand holding hers. "Where are we?"

For all that Anthony looked composed, Hermione was certain that the other teenager was distressed. He thought he was being covert with the anxious glances but Hermione was certainly observant enough to see it (not entirely ignoring the fact that she was doing it herself).

With dread pooling in her gut, Hermione concluded one thing. They were lost.

"Anthony?"

Dried leaves crunched under their feet as they continued to trudge through the forest, having long since lost sight of Luna. The sun had set and only the light of the moon above their heads allowed them to see where they were going.

"…"

"What?" Hermione sped up her steps to be closer to Anthony.

"I said-" Anthony stopped walking and faced her, mouth pinched with worry (Hermione was glad Anthony wasn't as hard to read as Harry). "-I don't know."

It must have been hard for him to confess that. At least, that was what Hermione thought. But it must have really been because Hermione knew Anthony prided himself in knowing the forests of Hogsmeade better than anyone in their village. From what she had gathered in their meeting— _date—_ Anthony spent more time in the woods than on the cobblestoned paths of the town. Hermione had to drag him around the village, not the other way around. And that is why Anthony knows every nook and cranny of the forests.

Except, apparently, the northern forest.

Hermione never ventured deep into the forests, this having been the first time she ever did so. She _did_ grow up in the city after all.

"Do you at least know how to get back?" Hermione cast a (fearful) glance to their surroundings. "We should go home." She wanted to find Luna, yes, but fear was winning over her senses.

"I…" Anthony frowned and looked around, trying to decipher where they were. "I don't- I can't- I… I haven't been to this part of the forest before."

Hermione took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. "Okay. Okay, let's… let's try to think about this."

"I'm sorry I can't help," Anthony sounded guilty and Hermione squeezed her hand.

"No, no, it's alright. I was the one who roped you into this anyway."

Anthony still looked guilty but Hermione doesn't know what else to say. She wasn't great with these things. Having grown up as an only child— _isolated_ —wasn't much help with things that concern socializing. In the end, she was only a little bit better than Harry.

"So where should we go?"

A gust of wind disturbed the trees and Hermione saw, more than felt, Anthony stiffen. His head whipped to the direction of where the wind came from and tugged at her hand.

"Let's go."

With much confusion and slight fear, Hermione followed.

And when they came across Luna who was staring up in a clearing, Hermione couldn't contain her gasp at the castle that suddenly appeared that towered over them.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Luna heard them before they arrived.

"Hello Hermione, Anthony." Her voice remained soft but she knew the wind carried them to her intended recipients. _They_ were always so helpful.

She waited a few moments before breaking her gaze from the majestic— _and destroyed and ruined and felled_ —castle, turning her gaze to her approaching…friends.

 _What a nice term_ , she thought to herself, _friends._ She never had one before. _They_ had always been there, whispering things to her ears, covering her eyes with _their_ gifts. But Luna knew _they_ couldn't be her friends. The Veil was still there, after all. Luna cannot cross it. Would not. Not yet.

Luna smiled at the gobsmacked expressions on their faces. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Luna turned her gaze back unto _Hogwarts_. The _Lady_. She used to hear her cries, cloying after her mind. It was unbearable. Then _they_ soothed Luna's despair at the cries, cleared her mind of the _Lady_ 's desperation. But she had heard. She heard it and Luna followed after it.

And now here she is.

"What's this?"

Luna smiled. Of course Hermione would want as much information as possible. "This is _Hogwarts_."

"Hog- _what?_ "

Anthony Goldstein. Luna turned her gaze unto the boy. _They_ favored him, somehow. Not as much as _they_ do with Harry— _her precious, precious Harry_ —but enough that Anthony was drawn to this place as well. After all, it was _their_ calls that Anthony follows whenever he goes inside the forests.

"It's rude, you know," Luna blinked at them, "not to bow before a _Lady_."

Despite the oddness of her statement, Anthony bowed, reluctantly followed by Hermione. Luna thinks they didn't understand what she meant.

"Come on, let's go inside."

 _Yes_ , Luna hummed as the gate opened without as much as a creak, _their_ powers— _Magic_ —cloaking their presence. _Such oblivious, wonderful friends._

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Harry bit his tongue as he noticed the painting of an armored knight waving at him frantically. The very same painting of an armored knight that he has seen at the corner of his eye the first five times they passed through this corridor. As well as the portrait of the sleeping gentleman Harry could have sworn was laughing at him earlier.

It wasn't that he had little patience. If anything, Harry had a well of it. He wasn't tired enough of walking to be cranky but the last few hours of _pointlessly_ wandering around the castle certainly grated on his nerves.

He could voice his annoyance, accuse them of stalling for something (although it seemed too paranoid a thought, but, well, he was in a strange place), do _anything_ so that this 'search' would actually be fruitful. Harry did none of that.

He was scared.

The pounding in his head steadily grew stronger with every minute he spent in the castle. It pulsed with every inhale, worsened by the still-there presence of both Voldemort's _Dark_ magic and _Hogwarts'_ oppressive air. _Something_ was about to happen though Harry couldn't tell what it is.

The hairs at the back of his neck rose as cold air swept through his worn clothes. They were in the dungeons now. The halls were dark—darker than the Throne room—though not dank as the name would imply. Harry was glad that Bellatrix had finally chosen to shut up even if it did creep him out a lot more. The covert and judging glances didn't help.

Bellatrix was up to something.

Whatever it was, Harry could tell it wasn't good. Rodolphus had remained as silent and stoic as he did since the beginning though he probably knew what Bellatrix had planned. Harry wanted to escape but the tight and bruising grip Bellatrix has around his wrist warned him.

 _You can't leave. Not yet._

"This is my favorite place," Bellatrix suddenly broke the silence. "Our rooms are around here. You see that portrait?"

Harry looked around, spotting the portrait she was pointing to. "The one with the bird?"

"Pretty, pretty bird," Bellatrix giggled. "Yes, that pretty little bird. Just say the password and we'll be in our rooms."

They stopped in front of it and Harry examined the painting. Surprisingly, unlike the other paintings, the bird— _a crow?_ —was inanimate. Although the canvas was big enough to be a door, like the one for the kitchens, the crow was small. If Harry were to guess, it was just as big as the actual ones. The rest of the painting was a meadow, the black bird looking out of place.

Bellatrix laid a hand on it and the portrait swung open.

"Go on," She tugged at his wrist. "Inside. We have to get inside. You're not allowed in the cellars. You can stay here."

"Wha-"

" _Stupefy_."

Harry managed to dodge the red light. Unfortunately, in his haste to get away, he managed to trap himself in the narrow entrance of the room. Bellatrix was grinning madly at him. He had no choice but to go in. So he did.

Suddenly, jets of red light began to shoot from Bellatrix' wand, all aimed at him.

Harry was confused but anger was quickly replacing it. Why was she attacking him? He hadn't done anything. He couldn't do anything but dodge. The red lights— _spells?_ —didn't do anything to the objects it landed on but Harry continued to move.

He hid behind a couch and Bellatrix cackled.

"My dear _Harry_ ," She was saying. "Come out come out. Mama Bella's not going to hurt you."

 _Yeah, right_.

Seeing a glint of metal beside him, Harry picked it up, grimacing as he saw that it was a letter opener. It was pointy and horribly impractical. Better than being unarmed.

" _Harry_ ," Bellatrix cooed.

Harry took a deep breath, adrenalin rushing through his veins. He'd managed to survive Dudley and his gang, he could escape this too. Given, Bellatrix Lestrange is a lot more _dangerous_ than his cousin and his merry band of wastes of space.

The couch he was leaning on was suddenly flung away and Harry was unable to prepare himself, falling on his back.

" _Crucio!"_

Searing pain burned through his body but he had the presence of mind to clutch on to his only weapon. He bit his lip until it bled, eyes clenched tight as the pain continued to course through his veins. _Ithurtsithurtsithurtsstop—_

Then it did.

Harry felt every muscle coil tighter, limbs trembling, suddenly bereft of the pain. He was on the brink of tears, could hear his blood pumping through his veins. Cold hands were petting his cheeks, another running through his hair.

Bellatrix shushed him as Harry struggled in her hold. "Don't worry, don't worry, _Harry_. Bella is going to take care of you."

A hand squeezed at his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Harry continued to struggle with trembling limbs but Bellatrix' hold was too strong. Something cold was pressed to his mouth and liquid was poured into his mouth. Harry had half the mind to spit it out.

"Now, now. Don't make Bella discipline you again. I don't like seeing you hurt. What kind of mother would I be?"

So Harry swallowed.

The hand finally let go and Harry blinked up at the deranged woman who continued petting his hair.

"Don't you worry," Her smile made Harry recoil. "It's just a mild sleeping draught."

Harry managed to rasp out as his blinking turned sluggish, "Wh-why?"

"You can't leave," Bellatrix answered, bending down to kiss his forehead. "I won't let you leave. When you wake up, Hogwarts will be hidden again and you won't be able to leave."

The draught was taking its effect and Harry's thoughts slowed down. His eye lids soon grew heavier and heavier. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the pinched look on Rodolphus' face.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

 **Again, to everyone who is reading this fanfic, thank you! I don't know how long it will take for me to go back to writing since I'm in college now and things are a bit tough. But know that I will pick up all my fics (in HP, BMC, and Hannibal) when I find my equilibrium again. Hopefully it will be by this season or else I'd be screwed.**

 **Thanks again, guys!**


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